


Our Burdens

by andes_hill



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: ACAB, Dissociation, F/F, Gen, Police Brutality, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andes_hill/pseuds/andes_hill
Summary: The past refuses to leave Makoto alone, especially when her old friend Akira comes to visit.
Relationships: Niijima Makoto & Okumura Haru, Niijima Makoto/Okumura Haru
Comments: 1
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

Makoto’s pencil fell on the table as she watched her writing hand disappear again. It always started with her fingernails, then the palm of her hand. She watched the bones at the base of her hand fade into the color of the desk, then the sleeve of her shirt.

She tried to breathe in and out slowly, like her therapist had told her. Deep breaths. But it was hard to do it when her entire body was tensed up like a spring. She felt as brittle as ice. One wrong breath and she would shatter.

Suddenly she felt a pressure on her right shoulder. She jolted up out of her chair.

“Are you okay, Mako-chan?”

Makoto looked at her right hand. She could see it again. Slowly the details of her surroundings returned to her: she was in front of a dimly lit desk in their home office. The blinds were shut and no light was getting through, so it was clearly late again. She had been studying for law school until a minute ago.

She let out a long sigh. “Sorry, Haru. I’m fine. It’s just...”

Haru looked at her palm, which was pale from the stressed muscles. “Dissociating?”

Makoto sighed. “I already lost my body once. It’s so easy for it to happen again and again.”

Haru turned Makoto around and put her hand into Makoto’s. Makoto could feel the warmth bleeding into her palm. “I know, dear. I wish I could help you feel safe.”

Makoto leaned into Haru, putting her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Of course you make me feel safe.”

Haru smiled uneasily. “Should I get you some coffee?”

Makoto looked at the clock: 11 PM. “I can’t stimulate myself this late.” She shivered. “Maybe hot cocoa? It is a bit cold up here.”

“We’ll need to get a repairman to fix this. And you’ll need a blanket.” Haru tutted and turned to go downstairs to get the drink.

“Thank you, honey.”

Makoto listened to Haru’s footsteps as they were slowly muffled by the distance between them. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but look at her hands again.

* * *

“Do you ever wish you were more… useful, Haru?”

“What do you mean, Mako-chan?”

The two of them were in bed that night, barely warm beneath two layers of blankets. The wind was still howling outside, and Makoto knew the two of them would be shoveling the cafe sidewalk in the morning.

Makoto stared at the ceiling. After a long night of studying, she’d always be stuck with words and images swimming around at the edge of her vision from what she studied. She tried to push the phrases out. “Well, we saved the world a few years ago, didn’t we? We were nearly erased from existence, but we did it. And now we’re just… living normal lives.”

Haru turned towards her in bed. “Well, we can’t be the Phantom Thieves anymore. We can’t just run around and save people like we used to.”

“Do you wish we could?”

Haru looked down and paused. “...Every day I do. I’ve met so many people trapped in their lives, being hurt by awful people. We’re safe because I have so much money from selling my shares in Okumura Foods. But every day I see people come into the cafe without any light in their eyes. I try to light them up, and sometimes it works. But there’s so much pain in the world.”

Makoto looked at Haru’s curly hair matted against the pillow. She’d seen that hair filled with dirt from the cafe garden and drenched after a food spill at work. She’d seen it fall out from the stress of abandoning her old life. If anyone had been through pain, it had been Haru. “You’re doing a great job, Haru.”

“But I could do more, couldn’t I? If I had stayed at Okumura Foods, I could have fixed things. Maybe we could have donated our profits to charity. Maybe I could’ve helped the workers unionize. Maybe—”

“The executives would have just forced you out, Haru. Even if they didn’t have palaces, their hearts were calcified. We saw that the moment they closed down your cafes.”

Haru frowned. “Calcified…. Just like the people at the police academy.”

Makoto sighed. “Yes.” She shifted towards Haru and wrapped her arms around her. “I wish we could do more, too. But for now, we can just make it through another day.”

Haru returned Makoto’s gesture and held her tightly. “Let’s do our best.”

It took Makoto another hour to fall asleep.

* * *

_Protests in the city have escalated after new video evidence of police violence was released online by anonymous hackers. A spokesman for the Tokyo Metropolitan Police—_

Makoto shut off the television. Weekends for Makoto were just another part of the endless marathon that was law school. Of course she could handle it—she was the sister of Sae Niijima, after all. But between day school, bar cram school, and helping out with Haru’s small cafe, she always felt stretched to her breaking point. The recent civil unrest was only adding to her stress levels. Nothing new, of course, but not something she thought she’d ever get used to.

At least the ambience of their home was relaxing. Makoto had grown used to the clatter of dishes and voices coming from downstairs. Hearing Haru greet a long-time customer or a new guest always made her smile and remember the time they had spent together at Leblanc.

She wasn’t used to Haru gasping so loudly, though. “Akira-kun?”

Makoto’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t heard from her former leader in over a year.

She heard two pairs of feet climbing up the stairs. She was able to clean up their living room a little by the time Akira emerged from the staircase. “Joker!”

Makoto still could never get used to how Akira looked at people. Even behind his false glasses, she could still feel his eyes boring deep into her brain, almost as if he knew all of her secrets and was just waiting for her to share. His appearance was the same as it had been when they had met last, if more exaggerated: the same shaggy haircut, wrinkled clothes, and five o’clock shadow. He raised an eyebrow. “Still Joker, after all this time?”

Makoto blushed. “Akira, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Akira looked around the room. “I need somewhere to lay low for a while. Could I stay here?”

Makoto looked at Haru, wide-eyed. Her girlfriend seemed just as surprised. “Well, we don’t have a bed for you...”

“I can sleep on a couch. And I’ll pay for any food you make for me.”

Haru shook her head. “You don’t need to do that. We have extra food from the cafe anyway.”

Makoto walked up to Akira and put her hand on his shoulder. “Stay as long as you need to, Akira.”

Akira flinched when she touched him, but then he smiled. “Sorry, it’s been a while. Thank you, Makoto. And you too, Haru.”

“Of course,” Haru said. “I’ve got to go back downstairs and run the cafe. Should I just say you’re an old friend?”

“As long as you don’t say my name, that’s fine,” he said. “Do you mind showing me around, Makoto?”

“Of course. Go ahead, Haru.” Makoto took Akira’s bag from his right hand. “The couch over here is the comfiest...”


	2. Chapter 2

Makoto listened to their silverware clank at the dining table, which was a bit more cramed than usual. Akira ate another spoonful of dinner and smiled. “This curry is great, Haru.”

“Thanks, Akira-kun.” Haru frowned. “Although I can never get it to taste quite like Sojiro-san’s...”

Makoto watched Akira’s brow furrow. “Did you add apples?” he asked.

“Well, I use applesauce,” Haru said.

“It has to be apple shavings. And I think you need some consomme as well.”

Haru took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Yes, you’re probably right.”

“I can’t believe you still remember the recipe, Akira,” Makoto said.

Akira smiled wryly. “I haven’t seen him in over a year, but I can still remember exactly how to brew his coffee.”

“A year is a long while for you,” Haru said. “You used to visit everyone whenever you could.”

“Has it been that long since you’ve seen everyone else, too?” Makoto asked.

Akira clasped his hands together above his plate. “...I’ve talked to Futaba, but that’s it. I have to make sure as few people know about my whereabouts as possible.”

“And you couldn’t even text us? Say hello? Tell us you were alive?”

Makoto realized she was clenching her fists around her fork. Akira, for his part, looked hurt; Makoto could tell she had struck a nerve. She was uncomfortably aware of how small the table was. “Sorry, Akira. It’s just… It was like you had died again. But we didn’t have a plan to save you this time.”

“I wanted to call too, Makoto. But what I’m doing is too important.”

“What is it?” Haru asked.

Akira looked away from Makoto. “Your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy if I said.”

“ _I_ wouldn’t be happy?” Makoto asked. “I trust you, Akira. Whatever you’re doing, I’m sure it’s the right thing.”

“If you say so.” Akira shifted in his chair. “You know the protests that have been happening recently? All the information that’s been leaked about police violence?”

“Of course,” Haru said. “It’s been all over the news.”

Makoto’s eyes widened. “ _You_ leaked that info.”

“Futaba dug up what evidence there was in police records. The rest of it we worked together to document.”

Haru nodded. “So you need to keep a low profile because the police are looking for you.”

Akira nodded. “I’m a natural suspect because of the Phantom Thieves. We’ve been extremely careful to stay discreet, but I need to play it as carefully as I can, since I’ve been physically close to a lot of the released info.”

“Where have you been staying?” Makoto asked. “Most of the leaked info has been about Tokyo police, so you must have been somewhere near a subway line.”

Akira nodded. “Just renting apartments here and there. Futaba has been cracking into the bank accounts of tax evaders and skimming money off transactions to pay for our operating costs.”

Makoto could feel her eye twitch. “She’s done _what_?”

“Then why are you here now?” Haru said.

Akira shrugged. “It was Futaba’s idea. She said I needed to see some friends.”

“But she won’t visit us herself.” Haru giggled. “Sounds just like her.”

“She wanted to come, but we can’t be in the same place at once. Safety reasons.”

“I see.”

There was silence for a few moments, then Akira turned to look at Makoto. “I said you wouldn’t like it.”

Makoto scrunched her eyes shut. She couldn’t feel her hands anymore. Deep breaths, Makoto. Yaldabaoth is gone. Mementos is gone. You’re having dinner with your wife and an old friend. You’re still here. You’re still here.

“Makoto?”

Makoto looked up at Akira, who was looking at her with concern. “Are you okay?”

Makoto could feel her fists tightened again. She released them slowly, then nodded. “I need some time to think about everything, Akira. But you can stay here for as long as you need.”

Akira looked like he had something to say, but he just nodded. “Thank you, Makoto.”

She forced herself to smile. “Of course.”

* * *

Makoto and Haru were back in bed again, with Akira sleeping on the couch in the living room. Once they had settled into bed, Haru looked at the bedroom door and laughed to herself. “Poor Akira-kun. He’s stuck in another attic, isn’t he?”

“Well, this one sure is cleaner than his room at Leblanc,” Makoto said. “We can do that much for him.”

“He told me that Sojiro didn’t even give him a duster on the first day. He found it buried beneath a stack of books.”

“Sojiro was such a slob,” Makoto said. “I much prefer how clean you keep the cafe.”

“If being a slob meant having coffee as good as his, I’d be that messy any day.”

Makoto poked her nose. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Haru poked her in return and the two of them laughed for a while. But the silence came again, just like always. Makoto found herself staring at the ceiling. Her conscious wasn’t filled with legalese today: it was a different kind of restlessness instead.

“Were you upset about what Akira-kun said tonight?” Haru asked.

Makoto sighed. “I don’t know.”

“You just seemed like you had a hard time responding to him at that one time.”

“I wasn’t upset. I just...” Makoto grabbed her arm. “I dissociated again.”

A pause. “Do you think it’s because he was here?”

“It could be,” Makoto admitted. “I don’t… I have a lot to think about.”

Haru turned to lie on her back. “It’s surreal. We were just talking about how we wished the Phantom Thieves were back, and now it’s almost like they are.”

“Almost.” Makoto shook her head. “Joker feels… different, somehow. More distant.”

“It’s been a long time. Maybe he’s just not used to being around us.”

“Maybe.”

* * *

The next week, Makoto was taking the train home from law school when her phone vibrated. She pulled it out and saw messages from an unknown sender.

[This is Futaba], the text read. [Don’t worry, I’ve encrypted the messages so only our phones can decipher them.]

Makoto smirked. [I’d expect nothing less. How are you, Futaba?]

[Very good. Just watching anime right now and figured I’d say hi.]

[What show?]

[You wouldn’t know it.]

[How can you be so sure, Futaba?]

[I’ve checked your browser history within the past month. You haven’t looked up anime or manga once.]

Makoto’s left eye twitched. [I suppose you have a point.]

[Anyways, expect texts from me if anything comes up. They’ll delete themselves after 30 minutes, so make sure to remember anything important. But don’t write it down!]

[Will do], Makoto said. [I learned my lesson about phone data from the Phantom Thieves days.]

[Don’t remind me], Futaba said. [We were awful about it back then. We weren’t doing anything to secure our texts at all! Akira and I are much more careful now.]

[That reminds me], Makoto said. [How is Morgana doing?]

[Loud and annoying, same as always.]

[Figures.]

Makoto put her phone back in her pocket. Her hands were numb.

* * *

Makoto and Joker were both in the living room that night. Makoto was at her desk, working on an essay on jurisdiction conflicts between district courts and high courts that was going swimmingly. Akira, meanwhile, was sitting up straight on the couch and working intensely on what appeared to be a brand new laptop.

After writing a particularly dense paragraph, Makoto sighed and turned away from her computer to look at Akira. The room was dimly lit, so Akira’s glasses were reflecting the glare from his screen, making it impossible to see his eyes.

“Futaba texted me today.”

Akira moved his head up. “She said she’d do that. Anything we need to talk about?”

“No, nothing like that. Although I did ask about Morgana. I’m surprised he isn’t with you.”

He shrugged. “It’s hard to be discreet with a cat around. It’s another thing that lets people narrow down your location.”

“Makes sense.” Makoto took a deep breath. “You’re really concerned about privacy nowadays, aren’t you?”

Akira raised an eyebrow. “Is that an accusation?”

“No, no, it makes perfect sense, given what you’re doing.” She pulled at the hem of her shirt. “I assume you’re working on it right now?”

Akira paused. “This cop’s name is Momoi Yoshida. One of his ex-girlfriends accused him of being physically abusive, but nothing ever came of it at his precinct. I’m digging into his records and also seeing if his other romantic partners have similar stories.”

“He does sound awful. He might’ve been in Mementos back in the day.”

“Maybe.” Akira shrugged. “But since we can’t check on the Meta-Nav, I’m trying to make sure I have as much information as I can before I leak anything. You have to start with the worst cops.”

“And avoid targeting the good ones," she said.

When she didn't hear a response, Makoto looked at Akira carefully. She could tell that his jaw was clenched. “You’re not saying something.”

Akira didn’t respond.

“Were you going to say that there _aren’t_ any good cops?”

The windows rattled from a strong gust of wind.

“Not to you.” He looked away from her. “I know you wanted to be a police commissioner, Makoto.”

Makoto stared at the hardwood floor. “Not anymore,” she said. “You’re free to be honest around me, Akira. Even if you think I’ll disagree with you.”

“Okay,” Akira said. “Then how _do_ you feel about the police, Makoto?”

“I… I don’t know,” Makoto admitted. “Sorry if that isn’t a satisfying answer.”

“Most answers aren’t.”

“Yeah.”

Makoto wished she could’ve returned to her work more politely, but after a few moments she simply turned around and pretended the conversation was over. The next few hours were a blur of reading through legal documents and typing. The only thing she remembered when she finally got up from the desk and went to bed was Akira lying on the couch and turning restlessly.

* * *

Makoto’s therapist, a curt woman with a tight bun and glasses, looked at her in the middle of her session. “And you said your dissociative episodes have increased since your junior high school friend came to visit?”

Makoto’s first instinct was to correct the therapist; then she remembered that she had made up an entire fake biography to conceal his existence while still getting help. “Yes, definitely.”

“Do you have any idea why that might be?”

Makoto pulled at her sleeve. “I’m not sure.”

“My immediate thought was that seeing someone from your past might be causing you to remember trauma from that time in your life.” The therapist paused. “I know you mentioned that you had a life-threatening experience in middle school.”

Makoto nodded.

“You did say these episodes had started a few months ago. However, I wouldn’t be surprised if the increase in frequency and your friend’s arrival are directly connected. However, I can only speculate if you don’t provide me with more details about the experience.”

Makoto bit her lip. “Well, it happened with a few other friends from around that time. It involved an… accident in Shibuya.”

“What kind of accident?”

“I… I don’t know, exactly. If I told you what I felt, you wouldn’t believe me. I don’t even believe myself sometimes.”

The therapist looked at her with a curious expression. “Well, tell me how you felt.”

How could she tell the truth without making herself seem insane? “I can’t remember exactly happened. I was with my friends, but I felt so… alone. I remember my body felt like it was falling apart. It was… It felt like the wrath of God.”

The therapist bit her pen. “Well, there is a lot to talk about here. Clearly these recollection cause you more stress then they should. Your dissociation may not be just a response to your current stress levels in that case, but rather indicative of a long-term mental health condition.”

“Do you mean post-traumatic stress disorder?”

“Most likely.”

Makoto put a hand on her neck. She could feel her blood pumping. “I see.”

“Don’t take this as an official diagnosis. We’d need to have you take a diagnostic questionnaire, as well as talk a lot more about this.”

“...I’d like to not talk about it for now, if that’s okay.”

The therapist uncrossed her legs. “Of course. Take as much time as you need to process the event and become more comfortable talking about it. If you’d like to move on, we can look at your SSRI dosage...”

* * *

Makoto and Haru were washing dishes in the cafe after hours when the TV chatter caught Makoto’s attention. _Documents and video evidence leaked online has implicated yet another police officer in misconduct._

“Listen, Haru.” Makoto turned the television up.

The news reporter’s saggy collar showed they were hoping for an easier late night broadcast. _The officer in question is Momoi Yoshida. The leaks allege the Tokyo police ignored multiple reported instances of brutal behavior towards detainees, as well as several credible reports of domestic abuse he perpetrated towards former partners._

“Akira was looking into him,” Makoto told Haru. “Fast as always.”

“I remember Sojiro always ignored the news when it was on in his shop,” Haru said as she put a plate on a drying rack. “Sometimes I wish I could do the same.”

Makoto laughed as she grabbed a dirty mug. “If only.”

_Yoshida could not be reached for contact at the time of this article. A representative for the Tokyo Metropolitan Police denied the allegations of negligent behavior by the police, stating that..._

Makoto rubbed her eyes hazily.

“ _These false claims are atrocious. The police in Japan are honorable citizens and fathers, and they would never stoop to this kind of behavior—”_

Haru turned around as she heard a massive crash. “Makoto! Makoto! Are you okay?”

Makoto found herself elbow-deep in an overflowing sink. The remains of a broken plate lay around her water-logged feet, and she realized that there was blood leaking from her left hand.

Haru reached over to turn off the faucet, then pulled Makoto out of the sink. “Mako-chan...”

Makoto looked at her shaking hands. “It just… It keeps happening. The water turned red and—”

Haru hugged her tightly. “It’s okay. Just take a few deep breaths.”

Makoto tried. She inhaled, and exhaled, but the breaths kept coming faster and faster. She was soaking wet and she could see the bones over her head in Shibuya. Her limbs were as heavy as lead. She could feel the blood climbing up her skin.

She slumped into her girlfriend’s side and started shivering.

Makoto could faintly here Haru’s voice. “Mako-chan, put your arm around my waist. Let’s go upstairs and get you dry clothes, then disinfect that wound.”

She nodded foggily and let Haru lead her to the staircase.


	3. Chapter 3

“Damn.” Makoto shook her hand to relieve the pain she was feeling from typing. The wounds from a few days ago had mostly healed, but one of the cuts was right on her finger and it was impossible to avoid it while doing her schoolwork.

Sick of the pain and noticing her sore eyes, she turned away from the computer and looked at their living room. Even with the ceiling light on, it was still darker than she would’ve liked. Makoto was still surprised Haru was willing to live here after having been raised in a mansion, but Haru was nothing if not adaptable. Makoto wished she felt the same.

Speaking of adaptable… Makoto turned to Akira, who was typing steadily on his laptop, although he seemed more irritated than usual.

“Why did you choose to stay with us, Akira?” she asked.

Akira looked up. “Ann, Yusuke, and Sumire are all notable public figures. Ann’s a model, Yusuke’s an artist, and Sumire’s a gymnast. Even interacting with them once is a security risk. You and Haru, on the other hand, both keep an incredibly low profile. And unlike Ryuji, you can keep a secret.”

Makoto laughed at the clearly rehearsed answer. “That’s all true, but it’s not what I asked. You just told me why you wouldn’t stay with the others. But that doesn’t explain why you wanted to visit us.”

“It was Futaba’s idea for me to see old friends—”

“But you wouldn’t have gone along with it if you didn’t want to.” Makoto looked at Akira. “We both know you won’t do something just because someone says you should. I want to know what you think, Akira.”

He sighed and took his glasses off. “Alright.”

“If you’re not comfortable with sharing, Joker, you don’t have to.”

Akira raised his eyebrows and Makoto blushed again. Then he shook his head. “No, it’s about time I’m honest with someone. The truth is… I’ve felt exhausted lately. The work I’m doing—trying to expose corrupt officials one by one, then hoping the public acts to hold them accountable—it’s not work that you can finish in a few weeks. Or even years.”

“There are no hearts to steal,” Makoto said.

“Only people to convince. And people don’t change quickly when you aren’t playing a game.”

A game… Makoto steadied her shaking hands as the room flashed red.

“I’m pushing against a brick wall every single day. Unless you take care of yourself, you get worn out. So while it’s risky to visit the two of you, it’s more risky to let myself get worn down by social isolation. You make mistakes when you’re like that.”

Makoto looked at the bags under Akira’s eyes. He’d treated her question like an interrogation, but he still revealed more than he realized.

“Well, I’m glad we can be of service. Although I wish we could do more.” Makoto sighed. “I feel helpless, too. Everything in society is outside of my control now. Of course I can do things in my own life, but… maybe I’m losing control of that, too.”

Akira looked at her for a moment. “There is something you can do to help me.”

Makoto looked up. “What is it?”

“I’m looking into a higher-ranking official right now: Niikura Eme. While she was in a senior position at the SIU, the organization prosecuted a startlingly small number of corrupt politicians.”

“And you think she was responsible.”

“There’s rumors, but no names. Futaba tried to hack into the SIU database for more details, but they keep a tight lock on things. All the information we might want is encrypted very securely.”

“Where do I come in?”

“Well, you know someone who held a significant position at the SIU during Niikura’s tenure.”

“You mean my sister.”

“Exactly.” Akira leaned forward. “There’s other ways to get the information we need, but they’re gambles. If we could get a lead from a trusted confidant, we could work with a lot more precision—and a lot more safety.”

“You’ve thought hard about this, haven’t you?”

Akira turned towards the shuttered window. “I didn’t want to ask you for help unless I needed to. There is some risk involved, after all. And I didn’t know if you’d want—”

“I’ll do it.”

Akira’s eyes widened.

Makoto smiled. “When my former leader asks me for help, I can’t say no.”

Akira smiled. “I appreciate that, Makoto.”

* * *

That night, Makoto steadied the phone in her shaking hand. It was just a phone call, and she and her sister met up every few weeks for dinner anyway, but her nerves were on fire anyway. It felt like there were shadows in every corner of their bedroom.

A squeeze of her hand reminded her that Haru was there. She looked at her girlfriend’s smile and took a deep breath, then pressed the call button.

Sae picked up after three rings. “Hello, Makoto.”

“You’re not recording this call, are you?”

“No,” Sae said. “That’s a peculiar way to start a conversation.”

“Sorry, this is a bit more than chit-chat. I’m calling in a favor for a friend.”

“Would your friend happen to be a Phantom Thief?”

Makoto could almost hear Sae’s smirk. “How did you know?”

“Just a guess. Tell me what I need to do.”

“We’re just looking for information. About some cases in the SIU that occurred under the purview of a woman named Niikura.”

“I’m familiar with her.” Makoto heard her sister pause. “Your friend is looking into dangerous places, Makoto. I hope they’re being cautious.”

Makoto shivered. She thought she could feel every bone in her body. “As safe as they can. This phone call is encrypted, actually, and there’s a secure line to send the information through.”

Sae laughed. “I’m glad Futaba is doing well. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, sis.”

“Of course.” Sae paused. “Are we still doing dinner next week?”

“I’m… a bit busy right now. I’ll get back to you on that.”

“I understand. Law school does take a lot out of you.”

“Yeah, law school.”

“Love you, Makoto.”

“Love you, sis.” Makoto hung up and put the phone down.

Haru looked at her with concern. “Did it go well?”

“It did. Sae’s more than willing to help.” Makoto exhaled. “That’s over, at least.”

“And you’re feeling alright?”

Makoto noded. “Of course, Haru. It was just a phone call.”

Haru pursed her lips. “If it was just a phone call, you wouldn’t have asked me to be here with you.”

Makoto didn’t say anything.

Haru smiled again. “It’s okay. I’ll get us some coffee.”

“Thanks, Haru.”

Makoto watched her girlfriend walk off. Haru’s footsteps rang through her body like she was an empty shell.

* * *

Akira was the one who started the conversation this time. “I’m still surprised you were willing to help me out.”

Makoto was leaning back in the couch next to Akira and wearing a sleep mask to fight off a small migraine. She lifted the mask up and looked at him. “Really, Akira. I’m almost hurt,” she said with a playful tone.

But Akira kept a straight face. “People change, Makoto. It’s how life works. And when I left the grid…”

“I hadn’t gone to the police academy yet.” Makoto sighed. “You really do despise the police, don’t you. And you didn’t want to be asking for my help while you were fighting them.”

Akira took his glasses off. “They have so much power, and no one in the government wants to hold them accountable when they do wrong.”

“Ryuji would’ve called them ‘rotten adults.’”

“To put it bluntly.”

Makoto chuckled. “But accurately.”

Akira looked at her. Even his usually flat demeanor could’t hide her his shock.

“Sometimes, Akira, it feels like you can peer into my soul. Other times you feel just like the rest of us.”

“I’m only human. I knew you looked beaten down when I got here, but I didn’t know why.”

“Beaten down, huh.” Makoto looked at the worn wooden slats at the top of the room. “I suppose you could say that. I was definitely more of an idealist in high school.”

“You can tell me if you want to.”

Makoto could hear Haru washing dishes downstairs. It was just her and Akira.

She sighed. “When I’d been around the police before, it was always in public or in their homes with my dad. They were around other people, and they were on their best behavior.

“But at the police academy, they took off the facade and said the things they actually believed.” Makoto’s brow furrowed. “It was all about meeting quotas and inflating egos. Instructors and trainees both. They almost never talked about people’s well-being. It was all about power and privilege.”

Akira shook his head. “I’ve heard about it, of course. But to walk in and experience it firsthand, when you expected so much more…”

“Once they were talking about interrogation techniques. One instructor talked about keeping someone talking for 18 hours straight to put pressure on them. I asked if he was worried about a false confession. Everyone laughed.”

“God.”

“Yeah.” Makoto looked at her desk. “I quit about a month in and started applying to law school. I’m not sure if it was because I wanted to, or because it was something that kept me from feeling purposeless.”

Akira put his hand on Makoto’s knee. “I’m sorry, Makoto.”

“It’s okay, Akira.” Makoto put her hand on his. “Like you said, I’m a different person now. And while it hurts, I think it’s for the better.”

Akira paused. “Yeah.”

* * *

Business was always slow on Thursday afternoons, so Makoto was watching the shop while Haru took a walk to pick up spare ingredients. She wouldn’t be able to cook, but Haru had taught her how to make a decent cup of coffee for when the occasional new customer walked in.

No one came in while Haru was out, though, which was a small mercy for Makoto. She grabbed a soft drink for one table, handled the bill for another, and did some trivial tasks. Not dishes—Haru wouldn’t let her touch them unless she was feeling totally safe, and Makoto’s grasp of reality hadn’t been firm for a few days now.

So she was wrapping up utensils in napkins when the entrance bell rang and Haru walked in with a man in a beat-up coat. Makoto knew the drill in these situations. Usually it was a homeless man who needed a meal. They had food to give, and so they gave it, and their regulars knew better than to challenge Haru about it.

Today, though, the homeless man looked even more shaken then usual. Makoto whispered to Haru as her girlfriend put the groceries in the fridge. “What happened out there?”

Haru looked over to make sure the man wasn’t listening. “There was a cop harassing him,” she whispered back.

Makoto was shocked. “Even cops usually don’t do that.”

“Apparently there was a foreigner nearby.”

Makoto sighed. “That’s explains it.”

Haru turned back towards the man. “Ogura-sama, would curry and coffee be alright?”

Ogura nodded and took a seat in the table closest to the door.

“Could you get the coffee, Makoto?”

“Of course.” Makoto walked back over to the front counter. “Hot or iced, Ogura-sama?”

“Hot, dear, and two sugars,” he said.

Makoto nodded and grabbed a mug, then walked over to the coffee machine and started pouring.

Would my father have harassed this man? Would he have forced him off of a bench? Would it have been because of a quota, or did he actually have animosity towards the poor? He always wanted Sae and I to have a respectable lifestyle. Was he disgusted by the woman living under the bridge by our apartment? Was he the reason she disappeared in fifth grade?

“Mako-chan!”

Makoto looked down and realized the hot coffee was overflowing and spilling onto her hands and arms. How wasn’t she feeling any pain? No, she could feel the pain. She could see herself running over to the sink and soaking her arms in cold water. She knew what was happening, but it was like she was watching through the toy binoculars her father had given her as a kid. So she watched Haru clean up her mess, pour a new cup of coffee for Ogura-sama, then walk over to her and put her arms around her. “Mako-chan, did the coffee burn you at all?”

Makoto was speaking through a haze. Her entire body felt as tenuous as the sink water. “N-no,” she managed to stammer out. “Nothing worse than first degree.”

“Okay. Okay. Then just keep soaking it for a few more minutes.”

Makoto felt herself nod. She watched Haru give the man his coffee and curry, watched his face light up as he ate it, watched Haru apologize for the commotion. The only thing she really remembered later was something the man said: “Don’t worry. I can tell she’s going through it, just like me.”

* * *

For the first time in a few weeks, the dinner table in Makoto’s and Haru’s home had an empty seat.

“Where’s Akira?” Makoto asked as she set down the rice on the table for the katsudon.

“He’s actually visiting Futaba and Morgana today,” Haru replied as she took a seat. “Sae’s information worked out, so now they’re planning when to release the information.”

“And he told you but not me?”

“Because he’s worried about you, Makoto.”

Makoto stopped garnishing her beef. “Why?”

“Mako-chan, you know why he’s worried. It’s for the same reason I am.”

“You don’t need to be worried, Haru. I’ve been dealing with dissociation for years. It’s nothing I can’t—”

“Listen to yourself, Mako-chan!”

She looked at her girlfriend. Haru was frowning—this would be the closest thing to a fight they’d had in months. “Haru?”

“Do you know how much it hurts to see you like this?” Haru had stood from her chair and was now turned to Makoto with her fists balled at her side. “I’m so angry at you, Mako-chan! And I know I shouldn’t be! Because it’s not your fault you’re pushing yourself too hard. You’ve gotten used to feeling helpless, even though you’re not.”

“Haru…”

“But you shouldn’t be used to it! You’re the most incredible person I know. And I don’t know how to help you, Mako-chan. I—I don’t…”

Haru staggered. Makoto ran up to her and grabbed her. Makoto could feel the tears spilling into her shoulder, could feel Haru’s sobs shaking her body. And she wished she felt something more than hollow.

* * *

At Haru’s behest, Makoto had taken a day off of schoolwork. She’d read a book her sister had bought her for her birthday half a year ago, then gone to Jinbocho to eat lunch and buy another book or two.

When she got back, she told Haru it’d been relaxing. She didn’t mention seeing the sky turn red intermittently, or another dissociative episode on the subway.

Now she was giving up on reading a book in their dimly-lit living room. The television news droning in the background was distracting her, as was the typing on Akira’s computer. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell him to stop either. Tonight was the night.

 _This just in,_ the broadcaster announced.

Akira looked up.

_We’ve just received reports that another anonymous leak has alleged misconduct in the SIU during the tenure of former prosecutor Niikura Eme. The report suggests she misdirected several investigations into politicians allied with the era’s majority party, and that the SIU has been aware of this but chosen not to enact consequences for several years…_

Makoto folded the corner of the current page of her book and shut it. Clearly she wasn’t going to be doing any more reading. “So it’s out.”

Akira shut the lid of his computer. “Nothing to do now but let it spread and see what happens.”

“What do you think is going to happen?”

“You never know what the people are going to do.”

“Give me an educated guess.”

Akira sighed. “There will probably be a protest heavily monitored by the police. A thousand people, maybe a few thousand if we’re lucky. Then things will quiet down until the next big leak.”

“That’s all?” Makoto said.

“For things to change, the anger of the public needs to be focused into a political movement. And that’s something I can’t do.”

“Because the police have a target on your back.”

“I am a Phantom Thief, after all.” He chuckled. “All I can do is hope someone else steps up and becomes the face of the movement.”

The news had already moved on from the leak. _Tomorrow’s weather is expected to be a slurry of snow and ice. Make sure to wear high-traction shoes…_

“And are you okay with that?” Makoto asked.

“What do you mean?”

Makoto sighed. “Haru shouted at me while you were gone yesterday. She said that I was used to being helpless, and that she wished she could do more for me.”

“Shouted? Was she angry?”

“Not at me. I think she was angry for me, and didn’t know how to say it.” Makoto put her head in her hands. “I’ve been asking myself if she’s right.”

Akira was silent.

“Before I joined the Phantom Thieves, I never tried to break the mold. I felt helpless because I didn’t have any choices. Not any real choices, anyway.”

“And now?” Akira asked.

“Now I have lots of choices. But it feels like, no matter what I do, nothing is going to change. Which is ridiculous, given that I saved the world.” Makoto laughed wryly. “But now that it’s people instead of some eldritch god, I can’t do anything.”

Akira was silent. The buzz of the television ran through their bodies.

Makoto looked down and realized Akira’s hands were shaking on top of the laptop. His jaw was locked. “Akira?”

“A year ago…” He swallowed. “A year ago, Morgana lost a leg.”

Makoto gasped. “Oh my god.”

“He got run over by a taxi. It wasn’t his fault. It was nobody’s fault. But it happened anyway.” Akira was staring dead ahead. “I didn’t feel like I could save anyone at that point. Sure, we killed Yaldabaoth. But Akechi didn’t make it. And we only survived because of Lavenza. Otherwise, every single one of us would have just…

“I can still see that day, you know.” Akira looked at Makoto. “I don’t relive it physically, like you do. But I can remember the looks of horror on everyone’s faces. You all died in front of me, and I couldn’t stop it.

“And I was even more helpless afterwards. I watched Ryuji work two jobs in college to make ends meet. I watched Haru get forced out of her own company. I watched Futaba still struggle to make friends in high school, even when she was trying so hard. All of it felt like… a condemnation.”

Akira sighed. “Morgana was the last straw. I cut off contact with everyone. I thought I felt too much shame to see them. The only reason I’m here now is because Futaba knew how to stalk me digitally. Otherwise, I’d probably be wearing my glasses and hiding at some restaurant in Osaka.”

Makoto moved to sit right next to Akira and steadied his hands with hers. “You haven’t told this to anyone else, have you.”

“Well, nobody except Futaba. But she figured it out anyway.”

“She sure is something.” Makoto realized the TV was still on and turned it off. “I just… I assumed it was part of some plan of yours.”

“It ended up being convenient for what we decided to do. I wouldn’t call it serendipitous, though.” Akira looked at the ceiling. “There isn’t a nice plot and a happy ending to this. Not a game anymore.”

“And even if there was a happy ending...” Makoto looked at Akira’s laptop. “You know, I thought that helping you would make me feel better. If I’m helping, I can’t be helpless, can I? But my dissociation got worse instead. We’re just… carrying this burden now, and there’s no way to get rid of it.”

He nodded. “Not permanently.”

Both of their phones rang. Makoto jumped in shock and pulled hers out. It was a message from Futaba.

[Sae’s house was just raided by the SIU. Makoto is next. Akira needs to leave now.]

She looked at Akira, whose wide-eyed expression told her he’d gotten the same message. “I’ll be gone in three minutes. Don’t tell them I was here.”

Makoto immediately scrambled to remove all evidence of him from the room. It was only after he jumped out the window that she realized they never said goodbye.


	4. Chapter 4

This wasn’t Makoto’s first time being dressed down by the police, and she was familiar with the procedure based on what Sae had told her in the past. Makoto was able to clean with a vacuum and soapy rag to remove as much DNA evidence as she could. Still, it was hard to not be overcome with paranoia as detectives scoured your home and tore through the cafe cupboards, especially when she was still having dissociative episodes.

After a brief interrogation where she once again made up a middle school friend staying in the living room, plus another thirty minutes of extra digging around, the investigators finally left.

Makoto and Haru found themselves sitting at the cafe table with a cup of coffee each. Makoto took a sip and sighed. “Well, you do make good coffee under stress, Haru.”

“I would hope so. I do run a business, after all!”

They laughed far harder than the moment called for. Then silence settled over the half-lit cafe again. The wind shuddered through the open door and made Makoto shiver, but neither of them got up to close it.

“So it’s over, then,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Haru asked.

“Akira’s gone. And he can’t really come back, now that the SIU has this place on some sort of watch list.”

“Futaba is just one text away,” Haru offered. “I’m sure that she could set it up so that Akira can message us as well.”

“Maybe.”

Haru watched Makoto spin her coffee straw around in the cup. “But that’s not what you’re worried about.”

“No,” Makoto finally admitted.

The wind chime at the entryway chattered.

“I want to keep helping Akira. But I don’t think I can.” Makoto held her hands in front of her. “I feel so out of control of my own life. And I don’t know if it will ever get better.”

Haru nodded. “I don’t want to pressure you, Mako-chan. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

“But you have something to say, of course.”

Haru nodded. “How do I put this…”

“We’ve got a lot of time.”

“I’m not that dim, Mako-chan!”

They both laughed again. Then Haru ran her hands through her hair. “I was never… comfortable as a Phantom Thief.”

“You mean the whole Beauty Thief shenanigan?”

“Well, yes.” Haru blushed. “But even after that. When I was a part of the team, I never really wanted to fight. I did it for my father, and then for you, and then for all of Japan. But that doesn’t mean I enjoyed it.”

“You just wanted to stay in your garden.”

“If I could, yes.” Haru paused. “When I think about helping people, I think about things I can see. Making them smile, giving them meals. Showing them love. If that’s all I get to do on some days, even if my life is in shambles, I’m still satisfied.”

Makoto sipped her coffee coffee. “And I wouldn’t be?”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it so bluntly.”

“You don’t want to put anything bluntly, Haru.”

“That’s fair,” she said, smiling. “Of course you want to express your love for people, Makoto. That’s why you’re such a good sister.”

“And girlfriend.”

“Of course. But you also can’t ignore the big problems in the world. When you see someone suffering, you see the systems that led up to it happening. And you can’t stop thinking about them.”

“So I’m doomed to a life of unhappiness.”

“Melodramatic tonight, are we?”

“The police did just ransack our house.”

Haru put her hand on top of Makoto’s. “I’m not saying you should throw away your mental health in the pursuit of justice. I’d never say that. But I don’t think you’ll feel better about the world if you try to ignore it, either.”

Makoto was quiet.

“Told you I didn’t need that long to think about it.”

“You certainly figured it out,” Makoto admitted. “And now I feel like you deserve an answer.”

“It’s not a test, Mako-chan. Although…” She tilted her head teasingly. “I will take a kiss instead.”

“Fine. But only on the cheek,” Makoto said as she stood up.

* * *

One week later, Makoto found herself in a noodle shop in Yongen-Jaya. She’d gotten a cryptic text from Futaba earlier in the day: [3:30 at the noodle shop right off Kamimachi Station.] She had no idea what to expect, so she just ordered udon with egg and waited, occasionally shifting in her seat.

At 3:32 Akira walked in wearing sunglasses and a sweatshirt with the hood up. He sat across from Makoto.

“Back to the classic disguise?” Makoto asked with a smile.

“As long as it works.”

Akira called the waiter over. “Same as she got, and a water.” The waiter brought out the water, then walked back to the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

Akira stirred his glass of water with a straw.

“What are we here for, Akira?” Makoto asked.

“First, a thank you. For everything you and Haru did over the last few weeks.”

“You would have done the same for us.”

“That doesn’t mean we don’t thank each other for it.”

“Such a believer in etiquette, you are.” Makoto chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

“And secondly…” Akira stirred the glass again. He looked almost as uncomfortable as Makoto. “I’m sorry about causing you stress. And no, I won’t let you pretend it’s no big deal,” he said, cutting Makoto off. “That was a difficult moment for all of us. Haru, me, and you.”

She wanted to chide him for trying to predict what she was going to say, but he had been right. “I appreciate your apology. Don’t blame yourself too much, though. Spending time with you made it worth it.”

“Alright then.”

The waiter brought them their noodles in handmade ceramic bowls. They found themselves too preoccupied by the taste to talk for a few minutes. Finally, Makoto put her bowl down and looked at Akira again. “I assume you didn’t ask me to come here for pleasantries.”

“Is there something wrong with getting lunch with a friend?” Akira asked sardonically.

“When you’re worried about the police, maybe.”

“I’ve escaped the police before.” Akira took a large slurp of broth. “I would’ve invited you just as a thank-you. But Futaba wanted me to ask you something.”

The restaurant chatter vanished into the background.

“She wants to ask if you’ll help us in the future. As our strategist.”

Makoto swallowed.

“I thought she’d ask that,” Makoto said.

“You don’t have to. We’ve been operating just fine before, and we can keep going. We just thought it might be useful to have… a captain at the helm.”

“Someone to guide the ship.”

Makoto’s arms were losing feeling again. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This is only temporary.

She exhaled. She moved her finger tentatively.

She closed her eyes, then opened them.

“Not today, Akira. Everything is still… too heavy right now.”

Akira nodded. “I understand.”

“But I will be ready someday, Akira. And when I am, I will join you.”

Akira’s eyes widened. “I didn’t expect...”

Makoto sighed and looked at the restaurant’s empty doorway. “I was thinking about you, Akira. We both are dealing with so much pain, and we’re both trying to do the right thing. Those two things felt like an impossible conflict. How could I fight for justice if I couldn’t fight myself?”

She watched someone pull the door open and walk in. “But then I realized that it wasn’t that simple. Sometimes you’ll be too weighed down with one to take care of the other. But most of the time… Mostly, they go together.”

She smiled. “I’m haunted by my past. It’s getting in the way right now. But I won’t let that stop me from living the life I want to live. Just like you haven’t let it stop you.”

Akira took his glasses off and looked at her intently. Then he nodded. “That’s admirable, Makoto.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“And…” He put his glasses back on. “Thank you for reminding me why I’m doing this.”

“Anything for a fellow Phantom Thief.”

Akira laughed. “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to call us the Phantom Thieves anymore, actually. Didn’t really get permission from Ryuji and Ann about that one.”

“It’s not like they own the name.”

“Tell that to Ryuji.”

They both laughed, then took as long as they could to talk, finish their meals, and leave. It was 4:30 by the time Makoto was riding back to Shibuya. She felt her phone vibrate and pulled it out.

[Just text me whenever you’re ready, Queen.]

Makoto smirked. [You’ll be the first to know.]

She put the phone back in her purse. And for the first time in months, instead of thinking about Mementos or Yaldabaoth, she focused on the rhythms of the train as it glided down the tracks.


End file.
